


tell me we'll never get used to it

by irridesca



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-compliant Death, Complicated Relationships, Earn Your Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Growing Up Together, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, aka all the best romantic comedies/growing up together stories, fusion of The Notebook/My Best Friend's Wedding/Sweet Home Alabama/Love Rosie, in which Rey and Ben are ships in the night, kind of?, there will be some ReyHux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irridesca/pseuds/irridesca
Summary: “Should we get married, too?” she asks, a bright, goofy smile spreading onto her lips.Ben’s responding smile is big enough that she can see it perfectly, as if they were standing in the midday sun. “Yeah, I think we should.”She giggles. “Okay, but we have to wait until we’re old. Because we have to go to college first.”Ben considers this. “You’re probably right. What about...twenty-nine?”Rey’s eyes go a little wide. “That’s pretty old.”At seven, Rey and Ben make a pact to get married when they turn twenty-nine. Twenty-two years later, Rey is engaged to someone else.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 115
Kudos: 310





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
>   
> Ahhh, yet another growing up together story because I'm a weak, weak woman that has no self control.
> 
> I hope you guys like this. I'm really excited about where it's going. :) 
> 
> A couple of notes: 
> 
> \- You'll find right away that Rey and Hux are together in the present timeline of this story. I hope that doesn't weird anyone out! All will be worth it in the end.  
> \- Chapter count is *loose* right now. The majority of this is outlined and ready to be written, but I am reworking a few bits in the middle. Tags will be updated as needed.  
> \- Title is from _Scheherazade_ by Richard Siken.  
> 
> 
> As always, major thanks to Heidi, Sam and Felicia for the beta!

**2017  
** Present Day

The two-bedroom cottage in West Mesa is close enough to the beach that with the windows open, you can hear the waves crashing. It’s nothing special, but Rey and Hux have made it into a place that they both love. All of their knick-knacks are scattered everywhere, Christmas lights hang over the doorways and windows, and framed pictures of their friends and family are on every wall. 

It’s home.

That is, at least, until they tell the landlord that they won’t be resigning the lease because they’re planning to move to Ventura after the wedding. 

It’s the most practical place for them to be, and Rey knows that. If they want to start a family soon, they have to be able to capitalize on space, and Santa Barbara is astronomically more expensive than Ventura when it comes to buying property, and since neither she nor Hux make enough to afford a million-dollar home in Hope Ranch, they’ve decided it’s best to go south. 

He’s got his heart set on a four-bed, three-and-half bath with stucco and a cobblestone driveway somewhere far enough away from the beach that you definitely won’t be able to hear the waves, but it’s big, almost three-thousand square feet and has a yard nearly twice that size. 

It’s the perfect place for them; their kids and dogs will have room to run, maybe one day they can even build an in-ground pool.

Rey stares out the open window of the cottage, thinking absently about a gaggle of red-headed kids running around swim trunks, chasing after a golden retriever before being swept up into a big towel and lifted into Hux’s arms. 

Hux looks right, in this daydream. He fits. 

He’s sweet. Achingly so. It wasn’t an act of chance that they found their way to each other, either. The opposite, really; Rey sought him out three years ago after seeing him walk into The Cliff Room with a few coworkers one night. He looked shy, but then he ordered a shot of tequila with a Stella back and she couldn’t help the way her eyebrows shot up a little at the sight. 

Hux was a lot of things, but she learned that night that shy was _not_ one of them. 

He’d just started a new job in finance at one of the newer tech startups down the road in Carpinteria, and she was finally feeling settled into her own job as a software engineer. Rigsby was a good company; they sold eco-friendly to-go containers to restaurants and retail stores, and Rey was one of the ten engineers that worked on the app the company was developing for mobile platforms. Not only did she love the job, she was also damn good at it. 

They spent the next two months going on dinner and movie and mini-golf dates, and at the end of every evening, they’d walk the beach together, holding their shoes as they talked about everything and nothing, laughing until their stomachs hurt.

They fell in love steadily. It wasn’t a shock to Rey’s system when Hux told her he loved her for the first time, and it didn’t feel foreign in her mouth when she repeated it back to him. They’d built up to it gently by putting in time and care and effort with each other. Hux understood from early on that Rey’s trust was something she rarely handed over for free, but he’d worked to earn it. He asked questions. He listened when she talked. He comforted her when she cried. 

She fell for him because he showed her through his words and actions that she was safe to do so. 

She fell for him because he was kind, because he looked at her like she was the sun. When he proposed three years in, at that same beach where they learned and loved each other, she didn’t hesitate, because it all made perfect sense. They made perfect sense. 

She’s pulled from her reverie by two lean arms sliding down her body. Soon, Hux’s face is in the crook of her shoulder, and he’s pressing a soft, sweet kiss to her cheek. 

He looks tired, fresh out of bed. His hair is a mess, but she likes it this way, all cowlicky and uncaring, a stark contrast to his usual meticulous grooming. 

“Did you buy them yet?” he asks her, his voice is grumbly with sleep. 

“Just about to, actually. Here, you can watch.” Rey leans forward, pulling him with her, to place her hand back on the trackpad of her laptop, where she’s got Expedia open. She’s in the confirmation stage of purchasing their tickets to Austin, Texas, where they’re getting married in less than three months.

“And,” she hovers over the word _purchase_ , and then clicks it. “Done.” 

Hux uses his right hand to tilt her chin toward him, and then he kisses her. It’s a soft, sweet morning kiss that feels good enough against her lips that she’s willing to forgive his atrocious morning breath. When he tries to deepen it, she almost gives in, but instead giggles as she pulls away, her hands cradling his cheeks. “Don’t you have a meeting you’re running late to, or something?” 

Hux laughs as he releases her and stands up. He looks down at his AppleWatch and Rey watches as his eyes start to bulge. “Shit,” he mutters. “I do, actually.” 

He’s off then, racing back toward their bedroom with heavy feet. She hears the shower turn on as she turns back to her laptop, stares at the _Congratulations! You’re booked!_ page and grins from ear-to-ear. Rey bites her bottom lip as she looks at the big bold letters, thinking about how close it is now. The wedding, the honeymoon, the trip back home.

She’s giddy, filled with all kinds of excited nerves, so she clicks out of the page and moves over to Facebook. After a few scrolls with nothing notable to see, Rey’s about to shut her laptop down and get ready for work herself when she sees a set of photos that were posted last night. 

She stops scrolling and clicks on the first picture to enlarge it.

The smile drops from her face. It feels like she's suddenly stuck at the kitchen table, unable to take her eyes off of the screen as she sits, unmoving with her mouth agape. 

It’s been a long time since Rey’s seen Leia Organa. And yet here she is now, right in front of her, and she looks so much smaller than Rey remembers. Her hair is much grayer now than it was five years ago, too.

But the reason she looks dwarf-like is likely not because she’s actually shrunk, but more due to the fact that she’s standing beside her son, Ben, who is at least a foot taller than her. 

Leia hasn’t posted anything in ages of herself, much less Ben. Rey makes an effort to not seek out her page often, but most of the time when she does, she finds inane things like Candy Crush records getting broken or someone tagging Leia in a meme that she probably will never see.

Rey’s eyes dart to the date of the photo. It’s from yesterday; they were out having lunch with Luke and he snapped a photo of them in front of the restaurant. 

Ben is at his full height in the photo, and when her eyes land at his face, something in Rey’s brain glitches out. It’s the only way to describe the jolt that radiates through her whole body as she stares. He looks handsome—but he always does, really. More than that, though, it’s the _look_ on his face that’s unsettling her. He looks exhausted. Maybe even a little sad, too. 

Rey’s cheeks and neck go from warm to hot in a matter of seconds. 

She’s known Ben since they were in pull-ups. She knows what kind of ice cream he likes (coffee), what his favorite type of music is (alternative), his favorite movie (Ghostbusters), and she knows about all the nightmares that used to plague him as a little boy. 

Sometimes, when they had sleepovers, he would wake up sobbing, and would tearfully ask Rey if she could sleep on the bottom bunk with him (because he always gave her top bunk when she stayed the night). Every time he asked, she said yes.

She knows him like the back of her hand.

Or, at least, she used to.

This person staring back at her from her laptop is not the Ben she knew. For one thing, he looks huge, like he’s put on at least twenty pounds of pure muscle since she last saw him. His hair is long, nearly touching his shoulders, and he has a mustache and a goatee that look slightly unkempt. 

He is in all black, though, so at least some things have stayed the same. 

Rey is so caught up in staring at the picture that she doesn’t notice Hux walking out of the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist until he’s right behind her. 

“Who’s that?” 

She jumps a little at the sound of his voice, and quickly clicks out of the enlarged photo so she’s back in the safe-zone of her newsfeed. 

Rey doesn’t even consider making _now_ the time to unpack her excruciatingly complicated history with Ben Solo, so she simply says, “No one.”

It feels false and unwelcomed on her tongue, like when you bite down on aluminum foil and everything inside of you seizes up a little.

Hux takes her at her word.

He has no reason not to. 

  
  


* * *

**1995**

It’s late. Rey can tell, because it’s really quiet in Leia and Han’s house. It’s dark, too. When she holds her open hand out in front of her face, she can just barely see the outline of it. 

It’s late, but Rey’s wide awake, rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes as she turns her body to lean over the railing of Ben’s blue metal bunk bed. 

He woke her up with his crying. It happens every once and a while, but he’s crying harder than usual this time; she can hear him struggling to catch his breath. 

Rey peeks her head over the edge, but it’s impossible to see him in the dark. 

He can’t see her, either, so he just keeps sobbing into his pillow. She can tell he’s got his face pressed into it by how muffled he sounds now.

Eventually, Rey whispers, “Ben?” 

The crying stops immediately, but she can still hear him sniffling. He doesn’t say anything, which confuses Rey, because usually, _he’s_ the one to call for her first. Not the other way around. 

Rey thinks that might have something to do with Poe making fun of him for crying the other day at the basketball hoops after lunch. She’d watched him change his face from sad to angry in seconds, wiping away his tears with his grass-stained shirt and stomping off, fists balled tightly at his sides.

But Rey doesn’t care about that. She’d never make fun of Ben for crying. 

She’d never make fun of Ben, period. 

He still hasn’t said anything after a few long minutes. Rey sighs. “Ben, did you have a bad dream?” 

A few more quiet moments, and then, “Yeah.” 

His voice nearly breaks on that one word, and Rey’s already up and moving to the ladder that connects her bunk to Ben’s. That’s how this usually goes. Ben has a bad dream, wakes up crying, asks her to come down and sleep with him on the bottom bunk. He likes to sleep on the top bunk when she’s not here, but he always lets her have it when she sleeps over. He tells her she can have anything of his that she wants. 

This time, he doesn’t ask her, but he doesn’t have to. She’s already there, lifting up the blue and red comforter and sliding in next to him. Her feet tangle with his, and she rubs her fuzzy pink socks against his bare ankles. 

They face each other, and Rey can almost see the outline of Ben’s nose if she squints. It’s too hard to see the rest of him, so she just looks into his eyes, which are shiny with tears, even in the near-pitch black. 

At seven years-old, they are best friends. Attached at the hip, as her mom likes to say. They have been since Rey came to live with her mom, Maz, who had lived across the street from the Solos for ten years. Ben is only a couple of months older than her, and they were both just starting to walk when she came home for the first time.

It only makes sense that they spend all of their time together; their parents are best friends, they’re the same age and go to the same elementary school. 

Not to mention, Ben is Rey’s favorite person. He likes Cartoon Network as much as she does, even though his favorite is _Johnny Bravo_ while she prefers _Courage the Cowardly Dog_ ; he’ll drink her milk for her at dinner because she hates it and he doesn’t want her to get in trouble; he comes up with the _best_ games on the playground at school (her favorite is pirate ship), and he always helps her with her homework, especially reading, which she’s terrible at. 

It’s hard for Rey to understand why someone as nice and fun as her best friend Ben would get such terrible nightmares, and she’s asked her mom about it before, too, but no one seems to have an explanation. They all chalk it up as _part of growing up_ and tell her that it won’t last forever.

But it’s been happening as long as she’s known him, which is a long, long time. Her whole life.

“Wanna tell me about it?” Rey asks softly. 

Under the covers, they hold each other’s hands. It’s another thing they do every time; it helps Ben stay calm. Rey’s found that the more they touch, the less he gasps for air. The less he sobs into his already-drenched pillow. 

She can’t see it, but she can feel him shake his head. 

Rey's face falls a little. “Okay.” 

“You don’t have to sleep down here with me if you don’t want to, Rey.” 

A swirling pang of nerves and sadness punches her belly. She squeezes his hands. 

“But I do want to.” 

He doesn’t say anything, but she feels him squeeze back. 

“Ben…” Rey murmurs. “Does this ever happen when I’m not here?” 

A long moment passes with no sound from Ben except sniffling. Eventually, he whispers, “Yeah.”

Rey’s heart starts to thud. She doesn’t like the feeling in her stomach right now, and the only thing she can think to do is move closer to Ben. He’s the only one that ever makes that feeling any better. 

Once they’re chest-to-chest, Rey asks, “What do you do?” 

She can feel Ben’s breath on her face. “I don’t go back to sleep.” 

“At all?” 

When he shakes his head this time, she’s close enough that she can see it. She can see most of him now, his messy dark waves, the beauty marks that dot his wonderfully strange face. 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could be here every time.” 

Ben lets go of one of her hands and wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her even closer against him. 

“Me, too,” he says gently. 

Rey purses her lips. “I promise once we’re eighteen I’ll never let you sleep alone again. If—” she stammers, her bravado stunted, “Only if you want, I mean.” 

He _had_ just told her that she didn’t have to sleep with him, after all. 

Ben lets out a breath through his nose. “I do.” 

Rey nods, and then moves her empty hand up to play with the ends of his hair. His breathing has slowed to normal now, and she thinks that his nose might be finally clearing up, too. 

“Should we get married, too?” she asks, a bright, goofy smile spreading onto her lips. 

Ben’s responding smile is big enough that she can see it perfectly, as if they were standing in the midday sun. 

“Yeah, I think we should.” 

She giggles. “Okay, but we have to wait until we’re old. Because we have to go to college first.” 

Ben considers this. “You’re probably right. What about...twenty-nine?” 

Rey’s eyes go a little wide. “That’s pretty old.” 

Ben laughs softly. “Yeah, but we’ll be together before that. Never sleeping alone again, remember?” 

They both squeeze each other tighter then, as close as they can possibly be in the twin bed. 

“That’s true,” Rey concedes. “As long as we’re together.” 

She sees Ben nod. Her eyes have adjusted enough that she can see his lids starting to droop. Rey turns in his arms, her back flush against his front. 

“Will you do the thing?” she asks sheepishly. 

She can feel his breath on her neck when he lets out a little chuckle. 

Then, she feels his thumb and index finger come up to her earlobe, and slowly start to rub back and forth. He does this continuously, settling his arm against her, rubbing the lobe gently even as she hears his breathing start to even out. He does it every time they sleep next to each other. Rey doesn’t know how he keeps doing it even after he’s asleep, but she doesn’t complain. 

Before long, her eyelids are drooping, and she falls into a deep, heavy sleep as she feels Ben’s chest rise and fall against her back. 

* * *

**2017**

The light buzz of Hux’s electric toothbrush hums throughout the bedroom as he walks around, completing menial tasks like taking his watch off, putting his shoes back onto the rack and hanging up his tie. Rey’s got her iPad propped up on her thighs as she works through a particularly difficult sudoku while a true crime podcast plays quietly from her bluetooth speaker. 

It’s their nightly routine in a nutshell. Rey’s bathed and brushed and lotioned and ready to pass out once she’s done with this puzzle, and soon Hux will join her in his boxers and an old t-shirt and they’ll get under the covers and snuggle until she no longer feels like her toes are going to fall off from frostbite. 

She loves the quiet moments they have like this. Hux has done well for himself and is somewhat high up in his department, so he travels quite a bit, but when he’s home for long stints of time like he has been recently, they ease back into their well-loved patterns. It feels right and good. 

Soon, he’s there, flicking off his lamp and plugging his phone into the charger. He moves under the covers to be close to her as she finishes up with the iPad, propping himself up near her elbow to watch as she finishes the puzzle.

Rey can almost hear his thoughts, they’re so loud. 

“Don’t even think about it,” she warns, plugging in a _7_ in one of the spaces of her last box. 

“But you’re so cl—”

“Hux.” 

He sighs, letting his head fall back. “Fine. Fine.” 

A tiny smile curves on Rey’s lips. Within a few minutes, she’s done, and the room goes completely dark and quiet when she flips off her speaker and lamp. 

Then, she’s turning to face him. “Don’t huff and puff." She settles in, adjusting her hair so it lays flat against her pillow. "You know I don’t like it when you help me win.” 

He huffs. “I’m just trying to help you finally beat my record.”

“Oh, please. We both know you cheated.”

Hux scoffs, and Rey can feel him press a hand to his chest, affronted. 

“I’m hurt,” he says dramatically.

Before she has the chance to give him any more crap, he’s pressing his lips to hers in a soft but warm kiss. If Rey’s eyelids weren’t already starting to droop, she’d definitely be down to continue, but she’s got little to no steam at this point in the week. Hux doesn’t either, and she can tell by the way his shoulders are sagging, but she appreciates the gesture nevertheless.

When they break apart, they’re panting a little. 

“Love you,” he whispers, eyes starting to close. 

“Me too,” she replies, turning over on her side so her back is flush to his chest. 

Her eyes are starting to shut, too, so she reaches her hand up and grips her earlobe gently between her thumb and index finger. Softly, she rubs back and forth, tugging it slightly. Everything is just as it should be; Rey’s wrapped up in her fiancé's arms, dozing peacefully as sounds of the ocean echo through the open window.

But as she sleeps that night, she finds herself dreaming of honey-brown eyes and old promises.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all staying safe and taking care of yourselves. It's been an incredibly difficult week. I'm heading out to the protests in Austin on Sunday in hopes of listening and lifting up the people in my community that have been consistently devastated by the racism that plagues the United States (and beyond). 
> 
> It was hard to open up my laptop and actually put words on paper in any capacity that were not related to what's going on, but eventually I had to let myself take time to write for my own mental health and to really decompress. I was able to finally put this chapter together, but no promises on the quality :') 
> 
> Thanks to Heidi, Sam and Felicia for being wonderful betas, sounding boards, and friends. 
> 
> Stay safe, Reylo fam. I love y'all.

**1995**

It’s June in Texas and the sun is sitting at its highest in the sky as Ben and Rey pedal as fast as they can up the biggest hill in their neighborhood. They’re both sweating buckets; they’ve been at this for hours, riding around in cul de sacs and through alleyways. It never gets old, riding bikes with Ben. It’s their favorite thing to do on the weekends and after school.

They both begged their parents for a bike for Christmas the previous year, and it had taken quite a few clean sinks and vacuumed carpets before Maz and Leia even _considered_ it. 

Even at seven, Rey knows that they don’t have money like some of the kids at school, like the girls who wore _Limited Too_ shirts and had pink pencil boxes with sparkles on them. Their faces transformed into something mean when they saw Rey’s plain t-shirts and blue jeans and her fifty-cent knockoff Spacemaker that Maz got at the Dollar General. 

Once, when Rey was at the mall with Maz to get a pair of shoes from Payless, she dragged her into the Claire's across the way and cried so hard that she was nearly wailing when she got down on her hands and knees to beg for a silver necklace with a bow hanging at its center. Maz was calm, but when she knelt down to make eye contact, Rey knew that she was going to be in a world of trouble when they got home. 

“Honey, we can’t afford that right now,” she’d said, all too low and soft for the situation at hand. Rey sniffled as she sat up, folding her arms tightly over her chest. 

“Rey.” Maz’s tone brokered no argument, then, and Rey sighed.

“Why can’t we ever spend money on _pretty_ things?” she groaned, shoulders slumping as her head flew back in frustration. “All you ever buy is chicken and cleaning supplies.” 

Maz rolled her eyes. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, little girl. We have to be mindful of how we spend our money. Sometimes, that means we buy _food_ instead of pretty things.” 

Rey began to grumble, in an attempt to talk back _again,_ when Maz leveled her with a glare. 

“Do we need to have a conversation about your bedtime? Or your karaoke machine?” 

Rey’s eyes went a little wide. She shook her head quickly, getting to her feet in less than a second. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Maz placed a firm hand on Rey’s shoulder to walk them both out of the store, and that was that. 

No necklaces that day, or any day after that. But Christmas was a different story. 

They spent every Christmas with the Solos. Ben and Rey would stay up far too late, talking about all of the possibilities of what might be under the tree waiting for them and giggling away until Ben’s dad, Han, would eventually come in and tell them that Santa didn’t leave presents for kids that stayed up all night on Christmas Eve. 

This, naturally, would scare the crap out of them (Han was very convincing), so they’d screw their eyes shut tight and whisper in the dark until they eventually did fall asleep.

Rey will never forget the Christmas morning when they walked downstairs to find their bikes sitting next to the tree. Ben’s was a dark, deep red (his favorite), and Rey’s was bright, neon green. Both were equipped with training wheels, helmets and even little horns on the handlebars. 

She nearly cried at the sight. There could have been a million dollars under the tree that day and neither of them would have known or cared. They took off, racing down the street with bare feet in their pajamas as their parents laughed and watched from the driveway. 

  
That day had been nice. A cool, whooshing breeze around them that was just enough to warrant a sweater, but not too cold that they couldn’t stay outside and ride for hours after breakfast.

Today is not like that day. 

Today, it is hot. Blistering. Rey can see the wiggling heat waves as they finally reach the top of the hill at Reeser and Lincoln street. Ben passes her rather quickly, zooming down the hill as he hollers, lifting his hands up from the handlebars and holding them out as far as they’ll go. 

Rey purses her lips as she watches, at a full stop. “Show off!” 

When Ben reaches the bottom, he does a few figure-eights before looking back up to Rey.

“Come on!” 

Rey takes a deep breath and stares down at him, willing herself not to be afraid. 

It’s just that the hill at Reeser and Lincoln is _steep_ , and Ben is much better at riding his bike than she is. He’d only needed the training wheels for a couple of weeks after they’d gotten the bikes. Han had taken them off for him and helped him through that final push of gaining his balance and confidence, and then he was soaring, two wheels on the ground, whooping and hollering all the while. 

Rey, on the other hand, took nearly a month. 

Ben never got impatient with her, though, and toward the end of her training wheels journey, he was the one that really helped get her past that final hurdle, spending hours with her, making sure that she never felt unsafe, guiding her up and down flat streets until they could barely see in the twilight. 

Han may have taught her the basics, but Ben taught her to be brave. 

Rey thinks about Ben’s hand at her back as she shuts her eyes, slapping her sneaker against the hot pavement as she launches forward. 

Everything happens very quickly after that. 

The first thing she recognizes is the sheer terror in her gut as she speeds down the hill faster than she’s ever gone, and when her hand reaches out to grab the brake, she doesn’t _think_. She just pulls, hoping that she can slow herself down a little. 

She doesn’t. She flips off the bike, scraping both of her knees as she lands face down on the street. 

“Rey!” 

Ben’s at her side almost immediately, grabbing her gently by the elbows to lift her up into a seated position. Rey’s a little in shock, but as soon as she sees the blood trickling down both of her legs, she starts to cry. It’s like the pain waited for her to see the source of it; she can feel the stinging sensation all over, but particularly on her knees and palms, which are also scraped to shreds. 

“Oh, Rey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that you—are you okay? Did you hurt yourself anywhere else?”

Still sobbing, she shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

Ben leans forward and pulls her into a hug, and she can feel and hear his heart pounding.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.” 

Rey sniffles, starting to hiccup a little as she leans her head against his shoulder. It hurts a lot, everywhere it feels like, but it’s better with Ben this close. He smells like the Solo house and dirt and sweat, and the familiarity and closeness of it makes Rey’s gasping cries start to quiet just a little. 

“It hurts, Ben,” she whines, digging her forehead into the material of his shirt. 

“C’mon, we have a first aid kit at my house. We’ll clean them up and put some bandaids on them. And then I’ll get you some ice.” He leans back, both of his hands bracing her shoulders. “Can you stand?” 

“I don’t know,” Rey mutters, only a little pathetic-sounding. 

“Here.” He stands then and reaches both of his hands down, offering them to her. Rey grabs them and hoists herself up with his help, and the pinch of skin as she stretches her legs to fully stand makes her almost shout. It’s a burning, stinging pain, and she can feel the blood continuing to stream down her legs as Ben stares at her, wide-eyed with concern. 

“Get on my back,” he commands, turning away from her and hunching down. 

“No, I’m fine, I—”

“Rey, c’mon. I can tell you’re in a lot of pain.” 

She doesn’t argue anymore. Her knees hurt too much. Instead, she listens, jumping onto his back and wrapping her arms around his neck as he starts toward the house. 

“What about our bikes?” she asks, looking back at the abandoned bikes, laying haphazardly near the sidewalk. 

“I’ll ask my dad to pick them up in the Falcon. Your legs are bleeding really badly.” 

He’s not wrong. Rey looks down and sees that they’re bleeding so much that they’ve stained Ben’s burnt orange UT t-shirt, leaving streaks of red where she’s got her legs resting against his sides. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles when he notices, too.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry for telling you to go down that stupid hill.” 

His voice sounds sad, suddenly. Rey bends her head down a little so she can see him, and his nostrils are all flared up; she knows from experience that they get like that when he’s upset. Particularly, when he’s about to cry. 

Rey hugs his neck a little tighter. 

“Don’t be.” 

  
  
  


**2017**

  
  


They’re out to dinner at Happy Duck, which Hux loves but Rey kind of hates because their signature style is these small plates with tiny little portions that are still somehow meant to be shared by the table and frankly, she just cannot really understand why anyone would pay fifty dollars for a meal when they’re going to leave still hungry. 

That is to say, every time they’ve come here, she’s snuck a bowl of cereal on the porch afterward. 

She’s never told Hux, though. He loves the place. The wait staff know him; the manager gives them free dessert sometimes (also tiny, usually something citrusy that Rey would _not_ qualify as dessert); even the valets know him and greet him. 

Which is why now, on a breezy Saturday night, exactly one month before their wedding, they are sitting at his preferred table and eating some new concoction that the chef has put together specifically for them as a congratulations on their upcoming nuptials. 

Rey’s not one-hundred percent sure, but she thinks that it might actually be grass that they’re eating.

Like maybe she wouldn’t _bet_ on it, but it literally looks like a tiny, freshly mowed lawn on a plate. 

Hux is finishing up his usual bourbon and setting it down on the table when he sighs, looking suddenly worried, and maybe even a little sad. 

Rey sets her fork down, happy for an excuse to stop picking at the foliage. 

“What’s up?” she asks, folding her arms over the table and leaning forward. 

Hux sighs. “I have some bad news.” 

“Okay.” 

His brow furrows, and instantly her heart feels like it’s sitting at the pit of her stomach. 

“I’m not going to be able to come out to Austin early with you after all,” he begins, reaching forward to pull her hands from their position so he can cradle them in his own as he talks. “I’m so sorry, darling. They threw this trip on my lap yesterday and it’s one of those fire drills, where the whole company’s livelihood is apparently at stake. Again.” 

Rey finds herself fighting the urge to cry. It’s not the first on the list of things that have gone wrong leading up to the wedding, but it’s definitely the biggest. 

She takes a deep breath, composing herself. The last thing she wants right now is unwanted attention from the waitstaff. 

“So, what does that mean, then? When will you be arriving?” 

“Uh—the 23rd. Early, though. Like six a.m.” 

“Two days before the wedding? You’re getting there two days before the wedding?” 

“Rey, you must know that I wouldn’t be doing this if I had a choice. My role, it puts me in a position wher—” 

“Where you are constantly on call and have to be ready no matter what. Yeah, I know.”

Hux squeezes her hands. The look on his face is full of worry and something not unlike regret. 

They stare at each other for a minute, and Rey can feel herself uncoiling slightly as he rubs his thumbs over her palms. Eventually, she shakes her head at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“You still love me?” he asks, pursing out his bottom lip. 

Rey narrows her eyes at him. “Maybe.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Rey’s just shot off a text about what style of champagne flute they want when she sees Rose’s face pop up on her phone, the jingle of a FaceTime call ringing loudly in the tiny kitchen. She swipes the answer button to the right, immediately giddy to see her best friend on the other side. 

“Y’know, typically, when you text someone and say just the words ‘bad news’, it has the tendency to freak them out. You do realize that right?” 

Leaning back in her chair, Rey sighs. “Sorry. I was upset last night. And tired, apparently.” 

“What the hell happened?” 

Rey had cried herself to sleep after texting Rose is what happened, and woke up to a series of texts, getting progressively more anxious and angry as time went on. 

Rose eventually gave up, after dozens of missed calls and texts (because Rey always stubbornly kept her phone on silent), and texted her something to the affect of: 

_if you’re dead in a ditch right now, i’m going to fucking murder you_

“Hux can’t come out early anymore. He has to fly out to Chicago tomorrow for the next month.” 

Rose stares at her blankly, fiddling with the ballpoint pen in her hand. “And how do you feel about that?” 

Rey’s quiet for a moment, because truthfully, she doesn’t really know how she feels about it. She knows that she’s annoyed and a little sad that Hux won’t get to spend the two weeks in Austin like they’d planned, getting to know her mom and old friends, riding around the city she grew up in, paddle-boarding on the lake, drinking margaritas and watching the sunset. 

She wanted him to finally know and experience this part of her, this gigantic, vital part, before they got married. It didn’t feel right, him only knowing _California Rey_ , when she’d been _Texas Rey_ for eighteen years of her life. 

That, and the fact that he’s never actually _met_ Maz or Rose. 

Eventually, she takes in a deep breath through her nostrils. “I’m fine with it. I know that he’s busy. Plus, he gets in really early on the 23rd, anyway. Like six a.m., so we’ll have plenty of time to spend with you guys before the wedding.” 

Rose does not look convinced. Rey loves her to pieces, truly, but her poker face is absolute shit.

“What?” she prods, jutting her chin out in frustration.

“Don’t ‘ _what_ ’ me. You _know_ what.” 

“He’s on call. He has so much more responsibility now, and he’s under a lot of pressure from his superiors and I can’t ask him to miss this just because I want him to mee—” 

Rose’s eyes widen a little before she cuts Rey off. “Are you really about to say what I think you’re about to say?” 

Rey’s head falls back now, eyes shutting tightly. Rose has never been one to pull punches with her. She should’ve expected as much. 

“Look, I know it’s weird. Trust me. We’ve talked about it. But the timing’s just never been quite right, and you know that.” 

“The only thing I know is that you’re marrying a dude in a month that your mother and best friend have only ever met via FaceTime. I think _weird_ is an understatement here, friend.” 

Rey's fingers press together at the bridge of her nose as she sighs out a long, exhausted breath.

“And what would you have me do?” 

“It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna do whatever you want to do because you’re stubborn as a goddamn mule.” Rose sighs, her expression softening microscopically as she leans forward. “Just get your ass out here already.” 

“I’ll be there in two weeks. Technically, thirteen days, six hours, and fifty-six minutes.” 

Rose chuckles. “Am I picking you up from the airport?” 

“Please. I don’t want my first ride in Texas after five years to be with an overly-enthusiastic Lyft driver.” 

Rey looks up her flight information on her laptop and rattles it off to Rose, who has her paused on FaceTime while she pulls up her Google Calendar. 

“Oh, shit,” Rose mutters, still paused so Rey can’t see her face. 

“What?” 

“Well, I’m supposed to take Leia to some Sip ‘n Paint thing that Resistance is putting on.”

“Oh, well,” Rey veers off, a little struck by the nonchalant mention of Leia. “I can just catch a Lyft. No big.” 

“No, it’s okay, uh—” Rose comes off pause then, but she isn’t looking directly at Rey. In fact, it looks like she’s looking at someone else entirely, and her facial expressions shift a little, like she’s willing someone with her eyes to shut up. Rey’s brow furrows. 

“What’s happening?” 

“Nothing. Sorry. Um, listen,” her voice is tighter suddenly. “Ben’s...back. In Austin. I don’t know if I mentioned that. So, he can probably take her.”

Rey feels her cheeks go a little warm.

It doesn’t matter, really. Plus, it’s nothing she didn’t already guess.

“Yeah, I saw that picture of them on Facebook. Didn’t realize it was like uh—a permanent thing.” 

Rose nods. “It is.” 

A scratchiness settles in Rey’s throat. “H—how is he?” 

There’s a half-smile on her lips when she responds. “He’s okay, I think. We haven’t talked much or anything. He got back a couple of months ago and he’s been clocking like, twelve-hour shifts at the garage every day. I think he might even be sleeping there.” 

She tries, truly she does, not to picture it. Ben, that Ben she saw in that picture, all dressed in black with his long hair and his tan skin and his bright, honey-brown eyes, flecked with a deep green that you can only see when you’re up close. That Ben, sleeping on the cot that Han kept in his office for when he and Leia fought and she kicked him out of the house (a none too infrequent event of their youth), his long legs undoubtedly hanging over it as it creaked and suffered under his weight. 

Rey nods. “I see.” 

Rose must be able to tell she’s somewhere else, because her voice sounds a bit more pointed when she speaks again, and the camera has moved closer to her face. 

“Are you gonna be okay with all this? Seeing him? I know we thought he was still gonna be in New York but I guess something happened and—” 

Rey can’t hear anything else. Physically, she isn’t sure she’d be able to. Not with the way her skin feels like it’s shaking off of her bones and her tongue and heart feel too heavy to hold. 

“I’m totally fine, Rose.” Rey states, sounding almost like she believes it. “It’s been years. We’re good.” 

“Well, good,” Rose nods, that trusty reassuring smile on her lips making a necessary comeback. “Then I’ll let him know that he can take Leia to the paint party, and I’ll see you on Saturday, the eleventh at 7:20 p.m.” 

Rey finds that the grin on her face comes effortlessly, just at the thought of wrapping her arms around her tiny, fierce Rose. She nods. 

“Can’t wait. Seriously.” 

When they hang up, Rey tosses her phone onto the kitchen table and lays her face gently into her palms. 

Because this, this _bomb_ that just got dropped in her lap feels like it’s exploded from the inside. 

It’s not the first, or the second, or the sixteenth thing that’s gone wrong leading up to the wedding, but it’s definitely, absolutely, _unequivocally_ the biggest.

  
  
  


**1995**

  
  


By the time they make it back to the house, Ben’s shirt is soaked with more sweat than blood. He carries her all the way to the bathroom that’s near the kitchen, and sets her down gently on top of the toilet. 

Immediately, he runs off, leaving the bathroom door open as Rey sits there, motionless and still sniffling. She must look like a complete mess, but she doesn’t want to risk the stinging in her knees from standing to look. But when she runs her gravel-dented fingers through her hair and feels the sweaty knots that have formed, she can only imagine the worst. 

_Classic_ Rey. Dirty, sweaty and occasionally bloody. 

Ben comes rushing back into the bathroom not two minutes later with a bottle of water, a first-aid kit and a dish rag. He sets down the kit and turns the faucet on, holding the rag underneath the water for a few seconds before squeezing out the excess with his hands. 

He looks so determined, working so quickly until he suddenly slows, turning to face her with the dripping rag hanging idly in his palm.

“You, um. You’ve got some blood and like… dirt and stuff on your cheeks. I can get it. My mom’s done this for me a bunch of times.” 

Rey’s hands immediately go to her cheeks, and she can feel the grime he’s describing. She pulls them away slowly, nodding at him after a moment. 

Ben steps forward carefully until he’s in front of her. He leans down and starts to make soft, gentle swipes across her face, cleaning the brown and red specs thoroughly. He sweeps all over her cheeks and her forehead, too. When he’s done, he tosses the rag into the sink and opens the kit. 

“This part always hurts a little,” he tells her before he sprays something on her knees that stings like nobody’s business, and the only saving grace Rey has is that he blows on them with his cool, soft breath after each spray. It helps enough that she doesn’t scream out at the feeling, which she very much wants to do. 

Once he’s cleaned them up and rubbed neosporin on the places where the skin ripped away, he seals two large beige bandaids on them. He’d moved to his knees to give himself better access and from there he takes her palms, turning them upward so he can examine the damage. 

Ben sighs when he sees the red dots there, where the gravel bit into her skin. 

He retrieves the towel and wipes them down with a clean end, and when the blood is gone and only the tiny wounds remain, Ben does something that takes her by surprise. 

Without saying a word, he leans down and presses a tiny kiss into each of her palms. They’re barely-there, ghost-like things, but she feels them, and can’t help the sharp little breath she takes in. 

Ben immediately looks up at her. “Sorry. I just,” he looks nervous all the sudden, squeezing her hands in his a little tighter. “I just wanted to make it better. And you know they say that helps.” 

“Kissing?” A little snort escapes her throat, and Ben’s face instantly relaxes. 

“Yeah. Kiss it and make it better. Doesn’t Maz do that with you?” 

Rey shakes her head. 

“Oh. Well,” he seems to consider her answer for a moment, and then leans back onto his heels before picking up both of her legs from behind. “Then we’ve gotta make sure we get them all.” 

He leans forward then, pressing a little kiss into both of the bandaids on her knees.

Rey finds that she does actually feel much better after that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for a love letter to whataburger lol
> 
> big ups to heidi/sam/felicia as always!!
> 
> come hang out with me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/taylormaybe) or [tumblr](http://earstwo.tumblr.com)!

There are days in the Spring in Texas when the weather is divine. Cloudless, endless azure sky; a light, crisp breeze at your cheek. The smell of the sun-soaked blacktop and burning mesquite. The days right before the heat started to seep in, when the last threads of winter had not yet begun to fray. 

Rey steps one flip-flop clad foot off the plane and onto the jet bridge and knows instantly that today is most definitely _not_ one of those days. 

Instead, it’s the damp, sticky kind of spring day—the kind that makes you want to shower after being outside for ten minutes and leaves you with a dewy, permanent layer of sweat on your skin that mosquitos gravitated to like sugar-water. 

Rey’s got that signature dampness starting to bead on her olive skin as she reaches the terminal, praising the heavens for the air conditioning inside the Austin airport.

When she spots Rose waiting for her near the baggage claim, the heat and the relentless humidity quickly become the last thing on her mind.

Rey lifts up her carry-on and rushes down the escalator, murmuring half-hearted apologies as she squeezes by multiple people on the way down. When Rose spots her, she squeals, also bum rushing a few innocent patrons as she runs toward Rey. 

They collide in a frenzy of tears, laughs and curse words. 

“Oh my _fucking God,_ it’s been too long,” Rose beams, pushing playfully at Rey’s shoulder when they break apart. 

“I know. I know. I’m the worst,” Rey shrugs, a bright, face-splitting smile on her lips as she clutches Rose’s cheeks in her palms. “But I love you and you are more beautiful than I remember.” 

Rose flutters her eyelashes and puckers her lips out dramatically, and then giggles, pulling Rey into another hug. Rey’s arms enclose around her neck; her tiny, oldest friend is and always has been the perfect height for hugging. 

“Hungry?” Rose asks, tilting her chin up to look at Rey.

“Whataburger?” Rey asks immediately, eyes lighting up. 

Rose nods excitedly. “Poe showed me something last weekend—something off the _secret menu_ apparently,” she tells her, eyes twinkling. “You’re gonna lose your shit.” 

Rey’s eyes slide closed, her grin turning whimsical. “Please feed me immediately.” 

They walk out of the airport then, arm in arm as they chatter happily, each pulling one of Rey’s rolling suitcases behind them. 

* * *

It’s magical. Pure, angelic. Truly a gift, this sandwich is. 

Rose had been right. Rey _is_ absolutely losing her shit. She’s just taken a bite of perfectly breaded, supremely juicy chicken strips sandwiched between two buttery, warm pieces of Texas toast, slathered in honey butter sauce and then, the pièce de résistance, _topped_ with salty, wonderfully crunchy yet fluffy french fries drizzled with barbecue sauce. 

There is no name for this flawless thing, but Rey thinks that they should name it after Poe.

Rey thinks they should name whole _cities_ after Poe for thinking of this. 

Rose watches with wonder as Rey devours it in five bites, inhuman moans escaping her throat every time she manages to catch her breath. Rose shakes her head, huffing through her nostrils when Rey crumples up the yellow wrapper into a ball and tosses it into the orange-and-white striped bag sitting on the floorboard. 

“Still a human garbage disposal, I see.” 

Rey’s midway through a long chug of Dr. Pepper when she rolls her eyes at her best friend. “I haven’t had Whataburger in five years. Sue me.” 

“Fair enough.” 

It’s nearly dark by the time they leave the restaurant parking lot. The streetlights have all kicked on; business displays are starting to light up, guiding them home to the east side of the city. 

  
Austin natives are rare these days, but Rey and Rose are from a neighborhood called Windsor Park that’s been mostly unchanged by the ever-spreading gentrification. Thanks to stubborn families that want to stay close to each other, the majority of the neighborhood has managed to turn the city away dozens of times when asked to sell. Rey can think of ten families off the top of her head that she grew up with that still lived in their neighborhood.

Everyone knew everyone; everyone _still does._

There’s never been anything else like it in her life. It’s home in every sense of the word. 

Rose gives Rey a brief overview of everything she's missed during the past five years; marriages, divorces, babies, old and new foes. They’re deep into a conversation about the Perez family’s four kids when they turn onto Springdale road, and Rey’s heart feels instantly like it’s been catapulted into her throat. 

It happens subconsciously—this familiar magnetism. The warm yellow of the streetlights, the sharp bend of the curve from the main road off to the darkened one where the auto shop sits—it's more familiar to Rey than anything else in the city. She’s driven down this road, walked down it, too, more times than she can count. It’s muscle memory, the way she leans into the turn. Their conversation tapers off a little as they approach. It’s obvious from even a mile away that the shop’s lights are on.

Ben’s Bronco is outside, too. 

Rey swallows, feeling no sense of relief from the action considering how dry her throat is all of a sudden, and she sits up a little straighter as they barrel toward the building, each brick on the exterior coming more and more into focus.

Rose, the saint that she is, doesn’t slow down, but the speed limit is slow enough as it is and neither of them could have possibly predicted that Ben would be standing outside, leaning against the Bronco with a tallboy in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Rey inhales sharply through her nose when she spots him. 

His eyes turn toward the street just in time for them to pass.

They look right at each other.

They hold each other’s gaze until he’s completely out of view and Rey realizes she’s fully craned her neck all the way back in an effort to keep looking at him.

It’s the first time she’s seen him since that day, five years ago, when she walked away from him and he didn’t chase after her.

The day that everything changed. The day she left behind the first and only man she’d ever loved. 

When Rey finally turns to face the road, she can see Rose out of her peripheral vision glancing curiously at her every few seconds. 

Finally, Rey looks over. “I’m fine. It’s fine.” 

Rose narrows her eyes, unconvinced. Rey clears her throat, eyes focusing back on the passing street lamps. They leave fleeting streaks of light against the windshield—quick dashes of bright yellow gold, over and over again. It makes Rey’s mind not feel so loud, watching them. 

“He looks…” she starts, unsure of where she intends to go with the thought. 

“Like he’s seen some shit?” Rose supplies. 

Rey doesn’t respond, but they both know that her silence is agreement. Ben doesn’t look much like _Ben_ anymore, and they both know it. 

He looked bigger, for one. He’d looked bigger in the Facebook photo, too, but in person, he’s just _massive_. Like his biceps might be bigger than her head. Ben was never a small dude—he’d been over six foot before they graduated high school—but he’d never been quite so... _bulky_ before. 

And the cigarettes—they weren’t technically _new_ , but they were something Rey thought he was done with. They used to smoke behind the house or on the roof growing up, going through a full pack together on some nights, talking about everything and nothing and sipping on forties while they watched the stars. But they both quit that years ago—right after Han, when they nipped it in the bud after realizing it was happening far too frequently. 

Rose doesn’t let her sit on the newfound unease for long. She perseveres valiantly in distracting Rey with idle chatter about Maz and how much of a busy-body she’s become in the neighborhood. Rey’s pulled out of her daydream when Rose tells her about Maz getting a _talking to_ for yelling at kids on her lawn. 

Rey snorts at that. “I think Maz turning into a grumpy grandma was inevitable. At least she isn’t hounding me about grandkids, though.” 

“Yet,” Rose points at Rey. 

Thoughts of Ben and his Bronco are as far back as Rey is able to push them when they pull into the driveway of the three-bedroom house where she grew up. It’s quaint— one story, shaped like a long and narrow rectangle and surrounded by a creaking chain-link fence that stretched around the front and backyard. The brown brick fades into a tannish-grey color the further down you look and the gutters need cleaning. Maz’s old, reliable, silver Nissan is sitting in the driveway, just like it always is, with her sunflower-patterned sun-shade cover propped up against the windshield. 

Rose’s car idles as she turns to Rey to give her a warm smile. “Come over for breakfast tomorrow?” 

With a nod, Rey says, “I’ll bring the mimosas.” 

“Yes, _please_ ,” Rose sighs happily. “I love being drunk before noon.” 

Rey hops out and grabs her bags, waving to Rose as she leaves the cul de sac. 

Maz doesn’t even let her get to the walkway that leads to their seafoam green front door; she’s already outside, draped in a long, flowing yellow kaftan and wearing feathery purple slippers on her tiny feet. 

“My prodigal daughter,” she shouts, her voice melodic as she seems to float toward Rey, holding her arms out and waving her forward. “Finally home.” 

Rey bends down and wraps her arms around Maz’s middle, eyes shutting slowly as she melts into the only mother she’s ever known. 

“Hi, mama,” she whispers into Maz’s shoulder with fat, hot tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**2000**

  
  


For Ben’s twelfth birthday party, they drape black-out curtains on the walls of the garage and spray paint them with neon colors. Leia goes to the store and comes back with soda, chips, cake and ice cream, and promises there will be pizza once the rest of the kids arrive. Ben and Rey wait anxiously, watching the clock as it ticks closer to six p.m., when all of their friends will get dropped off. 

They have an absolute blast. Han lets them bring out the TV from the living room so they can play with the Nintendo 64 and have knock-down-drag-out Mario Kart competitions (Rey lets Ben win because it’s his birthday, and the look he gives her at the end of their game tells her that he _knows_ she did, too), and they gorge themselves on pizza and chips and dip. 

Rey sits next to Ben as they sing him happy birthday at the kitchen table. When they finish, and everyone urges him to blow out his candles, he turns to look at her for a few long seconds before turning back to the cake and quickly extinguishing all twelve candles. He’d been doing that more and more often, recently. Just _looking_ at her. When he pulls back, the lights in the kitchen are flicked back on and Rey’s heart is pounding in her chest. 

There’s enough Dr. Pepper in Rey’s system that she’s nearly bursting as Leia hands out slices of cake and ice cream. She runs to the restroom, smoothing out her hair once she’s done and doing her best to get the tangles out. It’s always so _knotty_. She’d worn it down for the party, but usually, she just keeps it in the buns that Maz likes. Having it down just makes the tangles worse and her neck all sweaty, but she thinks Ben likes it like this. He always runs his fingers through it and tucks pieces of it behind her ears.

When Rey exits the bathroom, she’s walking toward the kitchen when she overhears the boys that are sitting on the loveseat in the living room, eating their pieces of cake. The hallway to the kitchen is just out of view, so they don’t see her, but their voices carry enough that she can hear their conversation as if she was standing right next to them. 

“I like Rey’s hair like that. You never see her with it down.” 

Poe. Of course. He’s a smart aleck, always disrupting their class with stupid jokes and comments. She doesn’t understand how the teachers somehow still love him, because he drives Rey absolutely bonkers. 

“Yeah, who knew she could actually look like a girl.”

That one’s Snap. They don’t get along much either, especially after he knocked her down during a game of two-on-two at the basketball courts a few months ago. Ben had almost punched him.

“What about you, Ben? You like Rey’s hair, too?” Poe asks. 

Rey leans forward a little, ears perking up of their own accord. She bites her lip, nervous all of the sudden. She hadn’t known that Ben was on the couch, too. 

“It’s fine,” he mutters softly. 

“Fine?” Poe prods. 

“I don’t really pay attention to it,” Ben says. 

“Oh, come on. You guys spend every minute together.” 

“She’s my best friend,” he replies, like it's an obvious fact. 

Poe doesn’t let up. “And that’s it? Just your best friend?”

It takes a moment for him to respond, but when he does, he sounds almost confused. 

“Yeah?” 

“So you don’t ever think about her like…” Poe trails off, and then Rey hears Snap bark out a laugh. She peeks around the corner to see him making a crude gesture with his hands. 

“Gross, dude. No,” Ben mutters, slapping Poe’s hands down.

“Gross, huh?” Poe asks, and Rey looks away from them, a lump forming quickly in her throat. It feels like all of the heat in her body is relocating to her cheeks and her mouth and her ears. 

“You know they’re like brother and sister, Poe,” Snap says gruffly. “Always have been. They used to have sleepovers and sleep in the same bed and shit.” 

Rey feels like she might scream. There are a million things running through her head as Poe mutters something about how it makes sense considering she’s the biggest tomboy he’s ever seen with two eyes, and it suddenly feels like her knees might give out. 

Ben’s quiet, not coming to her defense at all, not telling them that she’s a tomboy because she shares clothes with him sometimes when Maz can’t afford to buy her new ones, or doesn’t have time to run to the laundromat in between shifts, and doesn’t tell them about how they _still_ sleep in the same bed when they have sleepovers. 

He definitely doesn’t tell him that he still rubs her ear to help her go to sleep, or that she still holds him when he has nightmares.

“So, you’re telling me you wouldn’t like... _kiss_ her?” Poe continues. 

“Can we please talk about something else?” Ben pleads, and Rey doesn’t stick around to hear the rest. She runs for the backyard, knowing that everyone is congregating in the garage and the kitchen, and races toward the far edge until she hits the bordering fence. It’s chain-link and it pinches her palms as she grabs onto it, breathing so heavily that her chest presses against it as it rises and falls. 

Ben doesn’t want her. Doesn't pay attention to her hair, even when she wears it down like this, mostly for him.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Really. She’s dirty and stinky most of the time from being outside, and he’s had to look after her for their whole lives. It’s no wonder he just thinks of her like an annoying little sister, like a gross thing that he’d definitely never _kiss_.

It doesn’t matter that Rey’s never seen a brother and sister do anything like let their legs tangle in bed when they lay together at night, or that Ben sometimes presses his face into her neck and just breathes her in.

She squeezes the fence a little harder, nearly breaking the skin as she fights back against the tears that are threatening to fall onto her cheeks. It wouldn’t be worth the fuss if anyone knew she was crying, so she takes a few deep, steadying breaths and wills it away.

Eventually, once she’s less shaky and can let go of the fence without fear of falling, she turns back toward the house. Rey reaches into her pocket to grab the hair ties she always keeps. She pulls her hair up, ignoring the tangles as she fixes it into her three buns, tying them a little tighter this time. 

  
  
  


**2017**

  
  


Maz has kept Rey’s room exactly as it was when she grew up. It’s completely untouched by time; posters still hang from floor to ceiling, boldly displaying Rey’s love for Spice Girls, N’Sync, Britney and Christina, and of _course,_ her shrine to Leonardo DiCaprio that hangs proudly over her bed. 

When she wakes up and stares up at the ceiling at a poster of him looking through the fish tank at Claire Danes in _Romeo + Juliet_ , Rey sighs. 

Maz really should turn it into some kind of home gym, or something. It’s _embarrassing_. 

Rey picks up her phone and notices the time, knowing that since it’s just after eight that Maz is definitely already up and about, probably outside in the garden tending to her vegetables. She stretches dramatically in her twin bed before swinging her legs over and finding her blue polka-dotted slippers. 

She walks out into the kitchen, where she can see Maz through the glass of the backdoor, crouched down in front of her zucchini. 

Even from inside, Rey can hear her whistling. 

After she showers and rinses the airplane off of her, Rey puts on a light layer of tinted moisturizer and mascara, calling it sufficient for her casual breakfast date with Rose. By the time she reemerges into the kitchen, Maz is standing at the coffee maker. 

“Leaving me so soon?” she asks without turning around. She always did seem to have eyes in the back of her head—it had proved a very challenging talent during Rey’s childhood. 

“Breakfast with Rose,” Rey replies, reaching for her sunglasses and backpack. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” 

“Don’t forget that we need to go by Luke’s later. He’s getting anxious about the yard not being big enough.” 

Rey can’t help but roll her eyes a little. “We wouldn’t have asked to have the wedding there if the yard wasn’t big enough, mom.” 

Finally, Maz turns to look at her, a cup of coffee cradled in her small hands. 

She points to her chest. “Choir,” and then she points at Rey. “Preaching.” 

“Alright, alright,” Rey sighs, walking over and pressing a kiss to Maz’s cheek. “See you later. Love you.” 

“Love you, baby.” 

It takes five minutes for Rey to get to the market down the street from their neighborhood—the same market that has five-dollar bottles of Prosecco and sells individual cigarettes. She knows the owners, who greet her excitedly when she walks in, and Rey stops to talk to them for a few moments before heading back toward the alcohol. She’s so focused on the various choices of cheap-as-hell champagne that she doesn’t even hear the sound of the bell ringing at the door.

Not that she would’ve noticed anyway, but she’s particularly zoned out at this point, thinking seriously about which one will get them the drunkest in the shortest amount of time, numbing the stress and chaos of the wedding preparation that's about to begin. 

Rey reaches for two bottles of something that’s probably not even champagne but is perfectly acceptable for her intentions, wrapped in a bright pink label with cursive so loopy she can barely read it. She’s carefully placing them into the basket hanging from her arm when she turns to walk back to the register. 

As soon as she turns around, she can see the patron that walked in while she was browsing. 

Rey’s mouth goes dry. Her heart starts pumping like she’s just run a half-marathon and she thinks that it might be a miracle that she’s managed to keep a grip on the basket in her hand because the man standing less than ten feet away from her now...is Ben.

He’s got his back to her, talking to one of the owners, Bruce, with his hands waving about, the two laughing loudly as they chatter. He’s wearing all black. Again. T-shirt, jeans, the massive boots on his feet that look like they could easily hold both of hers. 

Before Rey has the chance to set the basket down and run for the hills, he’s waving at Bruce and turning around, and then they’re face-to-face for the first time in five years.

Ben’s jaw drops and then he instantly clamps it shut, and Rey tries not to let her eyes linger on the way his Adam’s apple bobs in this throat. 

They stand there, completely still, staring at each other for what feels like an eternity. 

Slowly, he approaches, walking down the candy aisle until he’s close enough that she can smell his cologne. Rey has no idea where the urge comes from, but it takes actual, physical restraint for her to not suck a deep breath in through her nostrils. 

The silence is endless, but neither of their eyes relent. 

When he finally speaks, Rey’s eyes flit down to his lips.

“Hi, Rey.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *[Ben's Bronco](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/26/07/aa/2607aa1b7499ed3fb3e47c3459a91b97.jpg)
> 
> *[Windsor Park](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Windsor_Park,_Austin,_Texas) \- fun fact, I lived in WP twice since I moved to Austin in 2012. It's a great neighborhood and both times I lived there, I was surrounded by neighbors that had been in their houses since the 70s.
> 
> *[That wonderful sandwich from Whataburger](https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2909/14349402099_4cf719eb3e_b.jpg) (pictured here without the fries and barbecue sauce which are _absolutely_ necessary) is the perfect drunk food. It's also the perfect regular food. What I'm saying is, Whataburger is perfect. I'll accept no counter-arguments on this. ;) <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand we're back with these angsty babies. I'm not sure why I fell off this story so hard, but you can blame Folklore for the resurgence of my inspiration. _Exile_ is such a perfect song for them that I listened to it on repeat while writing this and tightening up the outline. I can't get over it. 
> 
> In case you haven't heard it yet, you can listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=osdoLjUNFnA). Here are some the lyrics that hit me in my feels for this fic: 
> 
> _I can see you starin', honey  
>  Like he's just your understudy  
> Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me  
> Second, third, and hundredth chances  
> Balancin' on breaking branches  
> Those eyes add insult to injury_
> 
> _You're not my homeland anymore  
>  So what am I defending now?  
>  **You were my town**  
>  Now I'm in exile seein' you out_
> 
> And then also this lyric from My Tears Ricochet: 
> 
> _And I can go anywhere I want_  
>  Anywhere I want (just not home)
> 
>   
> AHHHHHHHH. It hurts how perfect it is. 
> 
>   
> Needless to say, I'm putting together a Spotify playlist for this fic and it'll be like, 40% Taylor Swift. 
> 
> Now, without further ado...
> 
> p.s. thank you as always to the best betas in the realm

Rey’s recollection of the last time she saw Ben—that dreadful Tuesday—is fragmented at best. She’s worked tirelessly for five years to dismantle it, through therapy, meditation, and adding a ton of grueling mileage to her running shoes. Truth be told, none of it worked the way she needed it to—bright, brutal flashes of it still existed, buried deep in the vestiges of her memory. 

The most painful parts are the ones that still manage to break through.

How broken he’d sounded when he told her he wasn’t leaving with her. 

How his hands had so tightly gripped the plaid bedspread as he said, through gritted teeth, that he was moving across the country instead. 

How Rey had nearly doubled over with the impact of it—how it felt like every piece of hope was shattering in her chest in a way that felt irreparable; it had been a brand new break, but she knew in that moment that the scarring would be permanent. 

For so much of their lives, they’d danced, light-footed and unsure, around the idea of being meant for each other. They’d made plans, made promises to figure out the answer to that question together. 

But then Ben had decided, on his own, that his place in the world was not with her.

He’d broken his promise. Again. 

She remembers feeling like she couldn’t breathe. 

It’s not like that anymore. It’s duller now, though no less constant. It’s a chronic pain that she’s learned to manage over five years, because if she let herself truly feel it, if she let it consume her in all its terrible wreckage, she’d never get out of bed in the morning. She wouldn’t be successful and living happily in California. She sure as hell would’ve never given Hux a second glance at that bar. 

Now, as she stands before Ben in the tiny market, less than five feet from him, it’s a vengeful thing, threatening to break free with a sneer on its lips. Even with years of practice, she’s struggling immensely as she stands face-to-face with this man that had somehow managed to both make and destroy her life so wholly. She breathes in through her nose deeply and slowly lets it out through parted lips. 

She can do this. She has to do this. She’s a grown up. A professional. An engaged, happy, successful person that cannot— _will_ not—let him turn all of that on its head again.

“Ben. Hi,” Rey says. 

His gaze is so heavy; it’s never been light, not when he looked at _her_ , but now it feels like there’s a dumbbell resting on each of her shoulders as his eyes pin her in place.

“How are you?” 

“Fine. I’m great,” she says quickly. “How are you?” 

Ben’s eyes narrow slightly. “I’m okay.” 

“You look—” Rey blurts out before clamping her lips together. Where that sentence was going to end, she’s not quite sure. Regret builds onto her face as Ben studies her.

He smiles, knowingly. “Different?” 

Rey lets out a little breath. “Bigger.” 

Ben’s smile grows. Rey refuses to let it penetrate her walls.

“I had some spare time on my hands, and I hate to be—” 

“Idle?” she finishes for him. 

For a second, he just stares. “Right. Idle.” 

Rey nods, suddenly somewhat lost for words and thoughts, too. She knows that she’s in this market for a reason, that the reason is hanging from her right arm in the form of cheap champagne, but she can’t bring herself to walk to the counter. Physically, she isn’t sure she’s capable of it, not when it’s like they’re playing chicken—seeing which one will break first, which one will be the first to look away. 

Rey decides as her cheeks start to heat that it’s a game she’s willing to lose, especially if it means Ben will stop looking at her like that. 

“We’re having brunch,” Rey nearly squeaks, regretful again at the way she seems to carry no finesse when she’s in his vicinity. “At Rose’s. Everyone’s going, I think. Do you—would you want to come?” 

She hopes that he sees it for what it is—what she’s trying to make it be, anyway—an olive branch. At the end of the day, if Rey ever wants to move back home, it seems she’s going to have to get used to Ben. He’s a part of this world whether she wants to believe it or not, and it would be nice to be able to be around him without feeling like all of her skin is melting off. 

Ben’s grimace is almost imperceptible. “I can’t. I, um, I have to get back to the garage.” 

Rey nods. “Rose said you’ve been sleeping there.” 

He tilts his head a little, considering her quietly for a beat. “Some nights it’s just easier than going home, I guess.” 

“And where’s that?” she asks. “Home.” 

He opens his mouth to tell her just as Rey reaches her free hand up to push back a bit of hair that’s fallen in her face. Ben’s eyes follow her hand, his mouth hanging open. 

It takes her about .02 seconds to realize that he’s staring at her ring. 

Rey’s hand falls back to her side, clamped against her hip. His eyes fall, looking away from her and she’s not fully certain, but she thinks she sees his nostrils flare. 

“Tell everyone I said hi, okay?” Ben says, his voice lower than before. “I’ll see you around.” 

He doesn’t give her a chance to object before he’s turning on his heel and walking quickly out the door. Rey can see through the big windows as he steps easily into the Bronco, can hear its rumbling engine as he kicks it to life. She watches it all, stunned, until he’s sped away and out of sight. 

* * *

There’s a big bay window that hangs over the sink in Rose’s house, so she sees Rey when she pulls in and starts to wave excitedly. The house she and her older sister Paige inherited when their parents died is only a couple of streets away from Rey’s, and it looks the same as it did twenty years ago. There are planters under each of the windows on the front side of the house, holding overflowing begonias and hydrangeas, still as bright and vibrant as they were when Mr. Tico used to tend to them. It’s a major point of pride for his daughters that they’ve kept his garden thriving after he passed eight years ago. 

Rey lugs the champagne bottles with her as she walks up the short driveway, and Poe has the door open before she’s even at the porch. He’s running out, and Rey drops the bag lightly onto the grass, knowing she’s about to get upended into Poe Dameron’s arms. 

He does just that. She’s spinning around, clinging to his neck as they laugh, and there are little tears forming in the corners of Rey’s eyes. 

“God damn, Kanata,” Poe exclaims as he sets her back onto her feet. “Has it really been five years?”

“Seems like longer,” Rey says as she grabs the champagne and they head inside, Poe’s arm slung around her neck.

“You’re tellin’ me. And now you’re getting _married?”_ Poe pops open the screen door and they step inside, and Rey is met with a chorus of melodic greetings. The front door opens right into the small kitchen, where Paige, Kaydel and Mitaka are all gathered. They immediately run for her when she walks in, each taking a turn to give her massive bear hugs that leave her nearly breathless by the end.

“Holy shit Rey, you look amazing,” Kaydel remarks. 

“Yeah, what are you even eating in California?” Paige asks as she takes the champagne from Rey and moves to uncork one of the bottles. 

Rey chuckles. “A lot of fish tacos, honestly. And too many of these breakfast burrito monstrosities that they try to say are comparable to breakfast tacos. It’s ludicrous.” 

“No one in California is allowed to say anything about breakfast tacos,” Poe murmurs as he bites into a blueberry muffin. 

Rey takes off her purse and sunglasses and walks over to Rose, who is hunched over a pot of boiling water and watching an egg as it poaches. Her brow is furrowed in concentration as Rey peeks at the progress, folding her arms over her chest. She turns and leans against the counter. 

“You’re pretty good at that,” Rey says. 

Rose doesn’t look at her. Her eyes are completely peeled to the egg as she says, “Not my first rodeo.” 

Rey snorts.

They have an eggs benedict bar set up at the counter and Rose is piling perfectly poached eggs onto toasted English muffins. There’s hollandaise and avocado and ham and sausage and Rey’s stomach is growling as she waits her turn with her paper plate in hand. 

When they’re all seated around the small table with glasses full of sparkling mimosas and steaming coffee, Rey takes a second to look around at all of her friends. She wishes that Finn could be here too, her first college friend that had quickly wiggled his way into a permanent part of her life. He would fit in perfectly at this table, going toe-to-toe with Paige’s sarcasm and charming the pants off of Poe with his British accent. 

“So,” Poe says. “Who’ve you seen so far Rey-Rey? Besides your mom, I mean. Luke? Chewie?” 

Rey shakes her head. “Not yet. I’m supposed to go to Luke’s after this to do a walkthrough of the yard. He’s convinced that it’s not big enough for the wedding. No Chewie yet. But I, um...I ran into Ben at the market when I was grabbing the champagne.” 

A forkful of cantaloupe stops midair on its way to Poe’s mouth. Rose turns to look at Rey. Everyone else’s eyebrows shoot up.

“How—” Rose clears her throat. “How was that?” 

Rey shrugs. “Fine. He’s huge, though. The fuck is up with that?”

“I imagine you don’t have much else to do in prison,” Poe blurts out, and Rose’s gaze cuts straight to his. Everyone else turns to look at him too, and Poe’s eyes are wide with regret as he stares down at his plate. 

Something inside Rey glitches out. She wishes absently for a rewind button so she could put on the subtitles for what she just witnessed—because there’s no way she heard what she thinks she heard.

Rose is staring daggers into Poe, and Rey is staring at Rose. 

Rey swallows. “What?” 

Slowly, Rose peels her gaze away from Poe and turns back to Rey. “It’s not our place to tell you what happened while Ben was gone, Rey. People in this town talk—they always have. I think you need to talk to him instead of,” she cuts back to Poe again. “Hearing it from the grapevine.” 

Rey’s nostrils flare as she sits there, a cacophony of blaring alarm bells sounding in her head. 

“It was Snoke, wasn’t it?” she asks after a beat, looking directly at Poe. 

He puts his hands up. “Look, I’m sorry I said anything. Rose is right. You should ask him.” 

It’s too quiet for at least a minute as they all try to continue eating as if nothing had just happened. It’s sweet, unassuming Mitaka that speaks up next, always the diplomat. 

“What’s Hux like, Rey?” 

She’s grateful, eternally so, for him in that moment. Rey attempts to shake off the panic and focus on what’s happening right now instead of what went down back then. She smiles, as easily as she can manage, and exhales. “He’s great,” she breathes. “He’s sweet, he’s reliable, he’s smart, considerate, he’s just so...uncomplicated.” 

“Cheers to that,” Paige says as she raises her mimosa.

Kaydel lifts her glass. “And to Rey back home in Austin,” she declares, and everyone else follows suit. 

“And to never being too old to put your foot in your mouth,” Poe sighs, and they all laugh as they clink their glasses and take hearty sips of their drinks. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Rey waits the appropriate amount of time and drinks the appropriate amount of water before driving back to home to pick up Maz on their way to Luke’s. 

She beeps the horn a couple of times when she pulls up, and Maz rushes out the door with a scarf wrapped around her head and those same big, bug-eyed looking sunglasses she’s worn since Rey was in pull ups. When she gets in, she immediately turns the radio down. 

Some things never change. 

Rey looks at her, and Maz waves a dismissive hand. “You’re gonna be deaf by the time you're forty, you keep that up.”

She has to resist rolling her eyes as she pulls the gear shift out of park. They lurch into motion, and when they come to a full stop at the intersection on the way to the main road, there’s a loud, squeaky, grinding noise that fills the car. 

“Mom, c’mon. What did I tell you about letting them get that bad?” Rey asks, shaking her head. 

“I’m a busy woman. You know I don’t have the time or the money for that.” 

“So, what? You just let them grind out of existence and then lose your ability to stop one day?” 

Maz is quiet, her arms folded over her chest. They roll down Springdale, heading toward the highway that will take them from Austin proper to Luke’s massive house in Manor. 

When they pass the shop, Rey peeks. She can’t help it. 

The Bronco is there, but Ben’s not next to it this time. Instead, she sees him—in the quick flash that she manages to catch as she speeds by—standing in front of an open hood, a sedan of some kind, hunched over and undoubtedly thinking. Researching. Strategizing. 

“Let me take it to The Corellian,” Rey says. “I’m sure they’ll give me a discount. Maybe even do it for free, if I can butter Poe up enough.” 

She can see her mother turn her head slowly to face her. Rey doesn’t budge, though. 

“I know what you’re thinking, so don’t even say it. I haven’t changed rotors or brake pads since I left for college. I don’t trust myself to do it now, especially with your car. It’s like ninety-years old.” 

Maz scoffs. “Mind yourself. This car got you everywhere you ever needed to be.” 

“Fair enough.” Rey grips the steering wheel and smiles. 

“Take it there if you want,” Maz sighs. “But we both know who you’ll have to butter up if you want to get anything for free.” 

  
  


**2000**

Even with all of The Corellian’s doors wide open and a massive, oscillating fan pointed right at them, Ben and Rey are both drenched in sweat as they sit on little rolling stools, both intently focused on the underside of Maz’s car. She’d dropped it and Rey off a few hours ago, telling Han that she and Leia had _errands_ to run around town (which usually meant splurging on a fifteen-dollar pedicure). 

The brake pads and the rotors both needed replacing, and when Ben perked up and asked if he could teach Rey how to do it, Han said yes, happy to go back inside and watch more of whatever sporting event was playing on the tiny television in his office. 

“Y’see how they look all gross like that?” he points at the rust-colored rotor, swiping his thumb at it as Rey narrows her eyes and moves closer. “That’s why they’re grinding. There’s no meat on them anymore.” 

“What now?” Rey asks. 

Ben reaches behind them to a metal tool cabinet and picks up a new, shiny silver one. “We replace them with these. See how thick?” He bends the object so Rey can see the metal, a massive layer that seems to have disappeared completely on the ones that are still attached to Maz’s car. 

“Then we replace the pads, too. Tell her she needs to take them in much sooner next time. By the time they’re grinding, it’s been too long.” 

“Well, maybe _I’ll_ fix them next time,” Rey touts. 

Ben’s starting to unscrew the old rotor when he chuckles. “I’m sure she’d love the free labor.” 

Rey rolls her eyes. When Ben slides out again, he sets his wrench down and wipes away the sweat beading at his forehead with his white t-shirt. Rey avoids watching this action entirely, still not fully recovered from him telling Poe and Snap that he didn’t want her _like that_. 

She isn’t sure if that conversation is why Snap has started sending her notes in fourth period, and she also isn't sure if it’s why she hasn’t completely ignored them. Upon giving him a second (maybe third?) chance at being her friend, she’s found that he’s not as terrible as she thought he was. Maybe. She’s even agreed to hang out with him outside of school this weekend, which is frankly unheard of in terms of Rey’s social life. The only guy she _ever_ hangs out with alone outside of school is Ben. 

  
  


Ben downs about half of an orange gatorade before reaching for his wrench and diving back in. Rey watches him carefully as he talks her through every move, every twist, turn and reason. She loves the simplicity of it—a problem with a perfect, foolproof answer. 

They finish with three of the rotors and Rey feels good about her knowledge of it all, so Ben lets her replace the fourth. He watches her intently as she performs the task with near perfect precision, only messing up once when she was trying to detach the brake pad. 

“Impressive,” Ben tells her proudly. Rey’s cheeks go a little pink. 

“Thanks,” she says, wiping her greasy hands off on her jeans. 

“Should we go to a movie this weekend or something?” Ben asks as he stands, collecting the tools that have accumulated and setting them in their drawers or hanging them on their assigned hooks. 

“Oh,” Rey stammers, nervously tucking away the stringy strands of hair that have fallen from her buns. “I, um...I actually told Snap that I’d go to a baseball game with him this weekend. But maybe on Sunday?” 

Ben’s eyebrows furrow, but only slightly. Rey stares at him, waiting for him to object. Waiting for him to say something that will give her a reason to not go—a reason to stay here with him instead. 

“Oh,” he says, nodding. “That sounds like fun.” 

Rey stands stock-still as he gives her something like a half-smile. Ben puts the last tool away, and then he’s walking back toward the shop, commenting over his shoulder about needing something to eat. She watches his back, eyes glued on it until he’s gone, letting the door slam shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [Twitter!](http://twitter.com/taylormaybe)


End file.
